


Sometimes To Win You've Got To Sin

by distortedreality



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-08
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-01 00:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10176539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distortedreality/pseuds/distortedreality
Summary: Bending. Towels. Kissing. Masturbating. Those were the four ingredients for Stiles’ Masterplan To Seduce Derek Hale. Hopefully it turned out better than any of Stiles’ other ideas.Alternatively, the four ways Stiles tried to get Derek to fuck him, and the time that Derek did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab

Stiles had always been a little bit attracted to Derek. That first moment in the woods when Derek appeared out of goddamn _nowhere_ , all leather with a ridiculous tall-dark-and-handsome vibe, had made Stiles do a double take. Even though he was 99 percent sure that the dude was probably a serial killer, he still found himself regretting not wearing tighter jeans and anything aside from the shirt he had grabbed from the floor of his wardrobe. You’d have to not have eyes to say Derek was unattractive. There was no big gay freak out, no awkwardness, no when-am-I-going-to-see-him-again stress; Stiles just became pretty hot for Derek. Really, the guy was a douche. That kind of helped the whole ‘no feelings’ part of the equation. He was just a nice thing to look at. Stiles was hung up on Lydia, anyway. He’d still take strawberry blonde curls and a short skirt over chiseled abs and a murder-stare any day of the week.

Stiles didn’t really care about sex any more than a normal teenage kid (which is still plenty), until some dickwad started killing virgins. Then his lack of sexual prowess became a matter of actual life and death. It was around that point that Derek started taking center stage in Stiles’ fantasies. He’d popped up before – particularly since he stopped clean shaving his jaw, every bit of stubble was like an extra second of starring in Stiles’ private time – but now it seemed like every time Stiles tried to envision plush lips and long legs he started thinking of calloused hands and eyes that flashed red. Not that his dick was exactly complaining.

It was around the time Stiles was somewhat shamefully looking at customized dildos that he decided he needed to fuck Derek by whatever means necessary. The fantasies were becoming a freaking addiction that was, quite frankly, embarrassing. He’d fought werewolves and hunters and a kanima and he’s _badass_ in his own opinion. But Derek freaking Hale somehow managed to flip an internal switch with his ridiculous eyebrows and Stiles has no idea how to flip it back. So sex. Sex is the answer. Really, when is it not? Judging by his past douche-ness, Derek would probably be an all-about-me kind of lover, so all Stiles would need was a single fuck to get Derek out of his head. Probably.

The biggest issue was, Derek didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in Stiles. Aside from directing annoyed grunts his way he pretty much ignored Stiles. For a moment Stiles debated regressing to middle school and asking Scott to put in a good word for him but _no._ The only thing more mortifying than planning how to seduce Derek Hale would be Scott teasing him about his plan to seduce Derek Hale.

“How do you get someone who hates you to sleep with you?” Stiles leant against the locker next to Lydia’s as she pulled her books out in a stack, meticulously neat and colour coded. She leveled a look at Stiles and raised her eyebrows.

“Do I even want to know?” she asked as she pushed her locker shut.

“Probably not,” Stiles admitted. “But you should help me anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter if they like you or not,” Lydia tapped her finger against her lip as they walked down the hall. “It matters that they’re attracted to you. Or at least could be.”

“But how. I mean, look at me.” Stiles gestured to his overall person. “You know firsthand that I’m terrible at seduction. I don’t exactly exude sexual prowess.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Just be alluring,” she started, ignoring the desperate look Stiles sent her way. “Find times to take your shirt off. Bend over all the time, or – oh – shower and come out in a towel. That always got Jackson going.” Stiles wasn’t sure if he would ever find himself in a situation where he could casually wear only a towel in front of Derek, but it was basically the only lead he had. Thank god for those extra lacrosse sessions he had with Scott over the summer, at least he’d effectively eliminated all pudge from his stomach area. The easiest of Lydia’s ideas was bending over, so bend Stiles would.

Idea number one started out ridiculous. The upside of people being sacrificed by some Celtic dickheads was that Stiles was seeing Derek way more often than in the past, even if it was for strictly supernatural purposes. And _no_ he hadn’t practiced bending over in front of the mirror to see which way made his ass look the best. Maybe.

/*/

“ _Stiles,_ ” Scott hissed from across the table in Derek’s loft, eyes flicking over to the man of the hour leaning against the wood at the head of the table, whose head was still buried in a research book. “Are you having muscle spasms or something?” Stiles glanced up from the book he had ‘accidentally’ knocked to the ground, making sure to spend an extra second grabbing it before straightening up.

“Nah, man, why would you say that?” Stiles flashed what he hoped was a casual smile at his best friend.

“Because that’s the fourth book you’ve shoved to the ground in the last ten minutes,” Derek supplied. Not at all helpfully, in Stiles’ opinion. The fucker hadn’t even looked up.

“Look, maybe there’s a loose page somewhere in here that could be helpful that’s just waiting to be dislodged,” Stiles retorted. Weakly, but still. He spent a few minutes pretending to read a page in a stupidly thick book that smelled of mildew before sighing and pushing his chair away from the table. “Anyone for a coffee, or a tea, or whatever Derek stores in this place?” Scott waved him off but _success_ because Derek finally looked at him.

“There’s tea bags in the bottom right cupboard. I’d say help yourself, but you were already planning to do that.” Derek was so deadpan. Since when was deadpan sexy. Stiles needed to hold a question session with his dick because this really was questionable. All the bending over was really starting to kill his lower back, but Stiles vowed to keep his ass in the air, even if it killed him. Lydia Martin was nothing if not smart, and she was clearly desirable, which was a quality Stiles lacked. He rummaged around in the cupboard for a considerably longer time period than required, especially considering there were about five things in the cupboard and the tea bags were right at the front, but it was worth it to see Derek glancing in his direction when he stood up and turned around. Derek was leaning more to the annoyed end of the scale rather than the aroused end, but maybe that was all his face could do. Stiles was yet to see any different. He still wouldn’t turn down a hate fuck from the guy. Stiles brewed three cups of tea, one significantly less full than the rest. He hid one behind the kettle and made his way back over to the table with the cups in his hand. He set one down in front of Derek with a smile – which was not returned – and tripped over the leg of the chair he’d been sitting on. At least he hoped it looked like he tripped and not like the awfully fake monstrosity that it was. He rushed to the kitchen to grab a towel and bent to soak the tea up off the floor.

“Really sorry, Derek. You know me, all klutz and no coordination,” Stiles joked. His back was really starting to hurt. Derek just raised his eyebrows at him. Stiles almost let out a cheer when Derek’s eyes brushed over his ass as they returned to the book in front of him. Mission tea spill was a success. Derek didn’t say anything when Stiles immediately returned to the table with a fresh cup of tea, but his eyes shifted between the fresh cup and the site of the tea massacre, a puzzled expression on his face.

/*/

Stiles was 100 percent sure his legs were going to separate from his body, or shrivel up from loss of circulation, or something else equally horrible. He had bought a pair of black skinny jeans off Amazon but he was fairly sure they had sent him cling wrap shaped like jeans. It had taken ten minutes just to get them up over his hips, and if he met any monsters at all today he would just have to stand there and get his ass kicked because there was _no way_ he would be able to fight or run or even _breathe_ in these things. He had barely been able to drive his Jeep over to the clinic. Knee movement was apparently a no-go for people who wore these things on a regular basis.

“Planning on moonlighting as a stripper, Stilinski?” Erica grinned as he made his way into the backroom of the clinic. Slowly, because walking at a fast pace was absolutely not going to happen.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Stiles shot back. Scott raised an eyebrow at him and Stiles grinned back. He noted that Derek was leaning against a wall facing Scott and Dr. Deaton across the table, so Stiles made his way over to the same side as Derek. He rested his elbows on the low table and adjusted his body so he could breathe, first of all, and so that Derek would get a nice view if he chose to partake in it. He barely heard anything Deaton said, choosing instead to focus on growing eyes in the back of his head so he could see if Derek was looking at him at all.

As they all filed out to the parking lot together, Erica grabbed his ass as she walked past, winking at him. Stiles slapped at her hand playfully, glancing back behind him out of habit to see who was following him. And _yes_ he’d caught Derek staring at his ass. He wanted to say something alluring but because he was Stiles he had absolutely nothing in his repertoire and could only resort to grinning at Derek, who looked slightly embarrassed. So even if his legs dropped off from lack of circulation, he could call that part of the plan a success.

/*/

Part two of Stiles Masterplan-To-Seduce-Derek-Hale happened almost by accident. Stiles and Scott had happened across a body in the woods and _somehow_ it had gotten shoved on top of Stiles. Freaking Scott. Derek had turned up as Stiles was attempting to wipe his bloodied hands on Scott’s shirt as Scott growled at him in a decidedly non-threatening manner. Derek had just shook his head and told Stiles to go home, which _no,_ he was covered in the blood of a dead body and his dad was the freaking Sheriff, so that wouldn’t go down well.

“Don’t make us blame a murder on you again,” Stiles joked. Derek just glared at him.

“You can shower at the loft then,” Derek said, telling Scott to call in the body after they were all a reasonable distance from the scene.

It was weird being at the loft without Scott. Stiles didn’t exactly frequent Derek’s new place of residence, and when he did come it was strictly for research purposes. He was never sure if the place was invitingly secluded or just plain creepy. It didn’t help that Derek seemed to be allergic to furniture. And colour. And just any form of homely décor.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall,” Derek pointed, handing him a towel. It was bright blue.

“That’s about the most colourful thing you own, isn’t it,” Stiles grinned. “I half expected you to have stuff that was that shade of grey that has like no colour in it at all.”

“Don’t get blood on anything, I’m not cleaning up after you,” Derek replied. Once under the spray, Stiles realized his golden opportunity. Towel + wet Stiles = aroused Derek. Or something like that. Once out of the shower he spent way too long staring into the mirror trying to get his hair looking sex mussed. Not that he knew what that looked like since, hello, virgin. The towel was a whole different ballgame. It had to be at the perfect level on his hips to show his hipbones, but not low enough to see whether or not he’d manscaped. Unless Derek liked that stuff. Shit. Eventually the towel was properly attached to Stiles’ body, and if he turned the hot water on full blast and stepped into the steam to get prime water beading on his torso right before he walked back out, then nobody else needed to know. He walked down the hallway doing what he hoped was a strut or something. Derek was sitting on the couch reading a book – research probably – and Stiles’ dick twitched because _damn._ He cleared his throat and Derek glanced up, dragging his eyes up Stiles’ body before reaching his face. Stiles internally thanked the gods again for extra lacrosse practices.

“Did you need something?” Derek asked. He seemed to be having a hard time keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face.

“Yeah, uh, my clothes were all bloody so I thought it’d be pretty pointless to put them back on. Could I borrow a shirt?” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, waiting for Derek to respond. The extra few seconds it took him were like freaking music to Stiles’ soul. His dick soul.

“Yeah, I’ve probably got something that will fit you.” Derek walked through to his bedroom to a small dresser under a window. After a moment Stiles followed him, stopping a few inches closer than where he would normally stand in relation to Derek. He hoped he noticed. Derek rifled through his shirts for a moment before pulling out a white one and handing it to Stiles. He glanced at him before pulling out a lower drawer and reaching for a pair of grey sweat pants.

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles smiled. He took a few steps away from Derek and turned so his back was to him and dropped the towel. He smirked at Derek’s sudden intake of breath and the few moments it took before the other man walked out of the room. Though Stiles didn’t have visual confirmation that he’d hit the target for that one, it’s not like Derek would have been staring at his scandalously uncovered shoulders. And when Derek stumbled over his words as he told Stiles he should be heading home, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Stiles, he called that a victory.

/*/

Stiles managed to implement that step of the plan twice more, to his satisfaction. Derek didn’t look any less flustered with each time. Which was oddly humanizing, since Derek didn’t let his persona shift very often. Hell, he didn’t even _talk_ most of the time, just relied on his freaking eyebrows to make the words for him. Operation Towel, Act Two happened at Stiles’ house. Scott had him researching Celtic crap up into the night before Stiles finally had a breakthrough, and messaged both Scott and Derek before crashing hard at around 3 am. So when Derek showed up at his house six hours later, he had refused to talk to him without a shower and breakfast. Derek had groaned and sped off to whatever takeaway place was closest while Stiles hopped in the shower. After Derek had been gone ten minutes, of course. He couldn’t waste such a perfect opportunity. Derek had been in Stiles’ room when he sauntered back in, his towel wrapped as low on his waist as he could safely maneuver it. He hadn’t missed Derek’s jaw tightening and his eyes flicking over Stiles’ body as he walked in. Stiles had spent five solid minutes forcing Derek to choose between a black shirt and a red shirt for Stiles to wear – while he sat in his towel, of course – before Derek had started to full out _growl_ at Stiles until he gave Derek the information he’d actually come for. Stiles played the growls over and over in his head as he touched himself on his bed after Derek had left, wondering if he ever made those kinds of sounds in bed.

The final Act in Saga a la Towel was thanks to Scott, who decided he needed Derek to meet them right at that moment to work out some wolfy business. Stiles hadn’t really cared, and Scott paid him no mind, until Stiles grinned at him when he mentioned Derek was on his way.

“So he’s coming here? To the pool?” Scott nodded. Luck was certainly on Stiles’ side. He stuck firmly to the shallow end until Derek came into his line of sight. Stiles exited the pool in the most dignified manner he could muster, which was to say, not at all dignified, and walked over to where Derek was arguing in a low voice with Scott, who was lounging on a deck chair.

“Long time no see, Der,” Stiles grinned.

“Hasn’t it been like three days since you saw him?” Scott asked. Stiles ignored him. He was far more interested in the way Derek’s eyes followed his towel as he wrapped it around his waist. He could have sworn Derek _gulped_ when he ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it up into a disarray. Before he could stop himself Stiles winked at Derek. Fucking _winked._ Though it went over better than he might have guessed, since Derek's cheeks appeared far redder than they had been the minute before, and he made an excuse to make a hasty exit. Stiles had to push away thoughts of blowing Derek in the pool showers when he washed the chlorine from his hair later that day.

/*/

“I need more ideas.” Stiles threw his bag onto the seat next to Lydia, who was twirling one of her curls around a pencil. She cocked on eyebrow at him. “The ideas you gave me the other week were good – they’re working. But I need more. He’s getting there, but I need, like, a final push or something.”

“So it’s a he?” Lydia studied him for a moment. “It’s not Scott is it?”

“God no. please never say that again.” Stiles didn’t need those mental images.

“I guess you could make him jealous? That might only work if he’s a certain type, though. Don’t do that if he’s all sweet and innocent.”

“Lydia, you’re fantastic,” Stiles smiled. His Math books just became marginally less interesting. Jealously might actually work on Derek. He was kind of possessive, being an Alpha and everything.

“I feel like this arrangement might work better if I actually knew who you were crushing on,” Lydia offered up. Her eyes were fixed on Stiles as she studied him.

“Nope. No way. Also, not crushing. Strictly NC-17 business,” Stiles fumbled over his words and somehow managed to knock his textbooks to the floor.

“Right,” Lydia replied, rolling her eyes.

/*/

Stiles decided Scott was fucking with him when he told him he’d invited Derek to Greenburg’s party, and the invite had been accepted. Parties didn’t exactly seem like Derek’s scene. His scene was running around in the woods and hanging around in burnt buildings and railway carriages, and things like that. Not normal teenage stuff.

“Yeah right, like Derek would ever come to a party you’d invited him to. Scratch that, like Derek would ever come to a party, or do anything fun at all.” Stiles downed the drink he was holding, scrunching his face as the heat of the alcohol moved down his throat. He should probably stop drinking if Derek was making an appearance, or else he’d probably do something stupid like declare his ridiculous boner for the guy, and he didn’t think they were quite there yet. But one more drink couldn’t hurt. Or possibly two.

Stiles was tearing up the dancefloor when Derek slipped into the room, easily finding Scott who was leaning up against a wall subtly jiving to the Top 40 song pumping through the speakers. Derek leaned in the say something in Scott’s ear, causing Scott to point Stiles out in the crowd. As Derek’s eyes found him in the crowd his vision was suddenly obscured by someone else’s face. A face that was pressed against him. He’d blame it on the alcohol, but he kissed the person back without a thought. When he pulled back a few moments later the brunette blew him a kiss and disappeared into the crowd. He glanced over at Derek and saw him glance over at the same time, meeting his eyes. Derek looked way less phased than Stiles hoped, but it gave him an idea. He moved to the music through the crowd until he found a tall guy with dark hair and a smattering of stubble. He moved into the guy’s personal space, not wanting to go straight for it lest he get punched in the mouth. The guy didn’t seemed to mind, so once Stiles was sure Derek was watching, he pressed his mouth to the other guy’s, licking in with his tongue and molding their bodies together. The guy was a good kisser, all wet tongue and roaming hands. He smelled good too, though not like Derek. The guy’s hands came down to rest on his ass, pulling Stiles into his body as they danced. Stiles didn’t need to glance over to know that Derek was watching. He could feel his gaze on him, and he couldn’t not be, let’s be honest. Stiles stayed like that, kissing the random guy within an inch of his life, until his jaw started to protest. He moved backward with a smirk, and made his way back through the crowd, pressing into bodies that moved with the rhythm as he went. Scott had moved elsewhere, but Derek was still in the same spot, leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand. His pupils were slightly blown and he looked an odd mix of pissed and aroused. _Success._

“See anything you like?” Stiles teased. Derek’s eyes rested on him for a moment before flicking back to the crowd.

“Maybe,” he replied. That was all the affirmation Stiles needed.

“Want to dance?” Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him back towards the crowd.

“Not really my thing,” Derek replied, though he didn’t pull his hand back.

“Is any of this really your thing?” Stiles asked, gesturing to the room and the people around them. “You’re here so you may as well have a good time.” Derek just stared at him for a moment before nodding and downing the rest of his beer. Stiles let out a whoop and tugged Derek behind him, making his way to the center of the room. The song was a good one, and Stiles felt the music move through him, his hips swirling and shoulders bopping. He grabbed Derek’s hands and forced him to move to the beat.

“Come on, Der, live a little,” Stiles yelled, throwing his head back to sing the chorus of the song. Derek was staring at him, looking almost awed or something. Stiles decided to believe that he wasn’t in awe of his terrible dance moves. Stiles laughed as he grabbed Derek’s hips and moved them around in an awful rendition of the Salsa, leaving them to linger on his hips a few moments longer than he otherwise would have. When he looked up Derek was smiling at him and, _wow,_ ok. Derek actually had a beautiful smile, and it was the first time Stiles had really seen it.

“You should smile more often, it’s a good look on you” Stiles yelled above the music, leaning into Derek’s ear. Derek grabbed his arm as he moved back away, keeping Stiles in his personal space for a moment. Stiles was close enough that all he would need to do was move forward a few inches and he could be kissing Derek. Derek’s eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed as he searched Stiles’ face, grey-green eyes flicking from Stiles’ lips to his eyes and back again. Just as Stiles began to lean forward Derek pulled back, blinking like he was yanking himself from a trance.

“I should go,” Derek said so quietly that Stiles had to strain to hear him over the music. Stiles bit his lip and nodded, letting go of Derek’s hand that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Derek stared at Stiles for a few moments before moving through the crowd, stealing glances over his shoulder every few moments, back to where Stiles was still standing. Even though he hadn’t been able to kiss Derek, Plan Jealously had certainly worked like a charm. Or maybe it was his _enthusiastic_ dancing. Stiles shrugged and made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from a cooler as he went past.

/*/

Stiles swore Derek was trying to make him pay for making him dance at the party. The next day Derek had texted him solidly. The problem with the texts was that they were about research. A fuckton of research, to be exact. And apparently Stiles was solely responsible for said research. Every ten minutes his phone would buzz with a new clue or piece of info or idea from Derek. If Derek’s own personal brand of seduction was forcing Stiles to work then he really needed to update that one. Derek also started dropping by at random times to see how the research was going, and to bring Stiles mounds of books to work through. Why Derek couldn’t do that himself Stiles didn’t know.

When Derek shoved his window open on the Wednesday night Stiles was sitting in his bed with the sheets all rumpled, face flushed and cheeks burning. Derek had paused for a moment, sniffing the air before turning bright red himself and muttering an apology before exiting the room as quickly as he’d come in. But it gave Stiles an idea. Derek had to catch him jerking off. The problem was timing. The guy wasn’t exactly a master of communication, so it was a game of chance as to when he’d decide to grace Stiles with his presence, and Stiles couldn’t exactly stay hard for the entire day on the off chance Derek might come over. In the end, he covered his windowsill in mountain ash and shot Derek a text telling him to come through the front door because of some made up excuse that definitely wouldn’t hold up if he was asked about it.

The first time the doorbell rang Stiles panicked. He was wearing his training sweats and an old shirt and definitely didn’t look like a sex god, or whatever he was trying to portray. He ran into Derek in the hallway just outside his room, and mumbled an excuse about being about to jump into the shower.

“You can stick around though, I’ll only be a minute. Mi casa es su casa, and all that.” He rushed through his shower until a lightbulb went off in his head. Derek has werewolf hearing, and Stiles’ plan was to jerk off within his vicinity. Stiles smirked to himself and ran his hand down his torso, gripping his already hardening cock. He squeezed some shower gel onto his palm and got to work, hamming up his moans slightly to make sure Derek heard him. His breath hitched with every flick of his thumb across the head, and he came across his fist with a whimper that sounded vaguely like Derek’s name. He didn’t bother to dress, just wrapped a towel around his waist for old times’ sake, and made his way back to his bedroom. Derek was sitting on his desk chair gripping the wood with one hand, his cheeks flushed and his pupils wide. Stiles grinned at him, his breath catching in his throat when he noticed the bulge in Derek’s jeans. Stiles opened his mouth to make Derek an offer of mutual satisfaction, but Derek was already out of the desk chair, slipping past Stiles and practically sprinting down the stairs and out the front door.

The second time Derek rang the doorbell and Stiles heard his dad let Derek in he got hard immediately. He rushed over to his bed, pulling his pants down and gripping the base of his dick, matching his strokes with each creak of the floorboards that signaled Derek getting closer to his room. He almost came as soon as he saw the knob turn and the door open, Derek stepping into the room and pushing the door shut behind him. He froze when his eyes fell on Stiles, who pretended to look surprised, pulling a pillow half over his dick.

“Uh, hey, Derek,” Stiles grinned. His dick twitched when Derek didn’t respond, his eyes still fixed on Stiles’ half-covered cock. When Derek didn’t move for a moment Stiles began to pull at his cock slowly, just enough for Derek to see his arm muscles working. He bit his lip and moaned quietly when he twisted his fist at the head of his dick, sending drops of precum onto his fist. Derek’s eyes were still fixed on his hand, but his nostrils flared. Stiles definitely noticed the growing tent in Derek’s pants.

“You can take a seat if you want,” Stiles offered, gesturing towards the desk chair. Derek paused for a moment before taking the direction, sliding into the chair facing Stiles. Stiles pushed the pillow off his dick and began to move his hand at a faster pace, breath hitching with each down stroke. He was already way too close, and having Derek sitting and watching was awakening a new kink or something. He reached down to cup his balls with one hand, squeezing at the base of his dick to try and ward off the orgasm for a moment longer. He stuck two of his fingers in his mouth and wet them, pushing his tongue all over the digits. He locked eyes with Derek as he pushed one knee up to his chest and pressed two fingers into his hole, coming almost immediately. Ropes of cum shot up his chest and he clenched around his fingers, moaning out Derek’s name. When he came down he saw Derek had pulled his cock out and was cleaning his own cum from his fingers. He smirked at Stiles but didn’t say anything as he left the room, doing up the zipper on his jeans as he walked.

“That was a good research session, we should do it again some time,” Stiles yelled after him. After the sound of the front door closing echoed up to Stiles’ room, he allowed himself a hearty fist pump before cleaning the mountain ash from his windowsill.

/*/

Derek was nowhere to be found for the next week. Derek was usually hard to find, but he had apparently dropped off the face of the earth after their voyeuristic masturbation session. Scott had taken to punching Stiles in the arm every time he mentioned Derek, which must have been a shitload if the yellow and purple bruise on his arm was anything to go by. The negative side effect of seeing Derek’s recently-orgasmed person was that Stiles was unable to get off to anything else. While Derek had been infiltrating his self-love sessions for a while, Stiles was now unable to orgasm unless he was thinking about Derek. Which was an issue. Variety is the spice of life, and all that. Stiles was becoming desperate. So desperate that Isaac had stopped answering the door whenever Stiles came by the loft.

It took Derek two weeks to resurface, and he came back pissed. Apparently he told Scott where he’d decided to take his little trip to, but Stiles wasn’t privy to that information.

“Didn’t realize you guys were certified BFFs now,” Stiles scoffed. “Did you make him a friendship bracelet? Braid each other’s wolf fur?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Scott replied, pelting the ball at Stiles hard enough for him to let out a whine of pain when it collided with his ribs.

“I’m just saying, he’s been MIA for weeks and he comes back and only wants to talk to you? What’s with that? You his new favourite beta or something?” Stiles returned the ball with a pitiful amount of force.

“Dude, just go talk to him. Weren’t you guys hanging out before? Maybe he’d like to see you.” Scott’s optimism was admirable.

“I can’t just go _see_ him. People don’t see Derek, he sees them,” Stiles threw down his stick and flopped to the ground beside it. “He’s like the abominable snowman, or Bigfoot, or something. You can’t find him unless he wants to be found.” Scott rolled his eyes at him as he took off his helmet.

“Just go, Stiles.” Stiles didn’t answer.

/*/

Stiles went, of course. He waited until night and drove over, parking his Jeep next to the Camaro. He had debated bringing some kind of wolfsbane stick or something to poke Isaac with when he inevitably didn’t let him in, but Isaac wasn’t home. Derek answered the door at Stiles’ knock, looking surprised to see him.

“Are you ok? Has something happened?” Derek pulled Stiles into the loft and shut the door, his eyes searching Stiles’ face and body for injuries or something.

“Uh, no. Just hanging out,” Stiles replied, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. This was a stupid idea. Stupid Scott and his stupid ideas. Derek’s eyes narrowed and he gave Stiles a once over again.

“What are you really here for?” Derek asked. He walked away from Stiles back towards the kitchen. “You’ve never turned up here before for no reason.”

“My reason is that I wanted to see your little wolfy face. You’ve been MIA for a while,” Stiles offered up. Derek was boiling the kettle, and it looked way too domestic for Stiles to handle. Apparently Derek had not only awakened a deadpan kink and a voyeurism kink, but also a _domesticity_ kink.

Derek didn’t offer up any information as to where he’d been, so they sat in silence while Derek made two cups of tea. He slid one onto the counter in front of Stiles.

“Maybe don’t walk anywhere with that one, you might pretend to trip over again,” Derek said, and the fucker winked. Stiles stopped short.

“Guilty as charged,” he joked, taking a sip of the tea. Somehow Derek had made it exactly how he liked it without him having to say anything.

“It took me a while to work out what you had against my floorboards,” Derek started as he rested his forearms on the counter, sipping his tea. “And then you started wearing tight pants and magically becoming shirtless every time I was around. It took me telling Erica and Isaac a joke about how you were kissing those people at that party and trying to get me to dance with you that I got it. Well, they got it and laughed at me until I got it.” Derek leveled his gaze at Stiles who was attempting to look cool while also freaking out internally.

“And what did you work out?” Stiles asked weakly, setting his mug on the counter. Derek was moving around the counter to stand behind Stiles, his breath hot against his ear.

“I figured out your M.O., Stiles. But I don’t want to tell you, I want you to tell me.” Derek’s lips were practically touching the back of his neck sending sparks shooting down Stiles’ spine.

“Tell you what?” was all Stiles could muster up.

“Why you’ve been doing all this. What you want from it,” Derek chuckled, trailing a finger down Stiles’ arm. Stiles gulped.

“Well, you’re a good looking guy and I’m a guy who likes good looking guys, so I thought it could be mutually beneficial.” Stiles felt a wave of confidence surged through him and he whirled around, grabbing Derek by the back of the neck and pulling him in. “I want you to fuck me, Derek. Hard or slow or whatever way you want it just as long as you do it. I want to suck your cock and feel your cum on my skin and I want to hear what you sound like when you cum,” Stiles whispered in Derek’s ear. He pulled back to see Derek’s pupils blown wide, his mouth parted slightly. Derek grinned and pulled Stiles off the bar stool by his thighs, wrapping his hands around them and leaving Stiles to cinch his legs around Derek’s waist. Derek deposited him on the large wooden table, stepping in between his legs and pushing their chests together. Stiles leaned in as soon as Derek moved forward, pressing their mouths together and moving his tongue in a swipe of wet heat. Derek moaned and curled his tongue around Stiles’, running his hands up and down Stiles’ back. Stiles curled his tongue around Derek’s, causing Derek to bite his lip, leaving them panting into each other’s mouths.

“Fuck,” Stiles whispered as Derek palmed him through his jeans. He could feel Derek’s hard length pressing into his thigh, and he wanted to get his mouth on it. “Let me blow you. Please.” He didn’t think he could muster up much else. Derek smirked and pulled off his shirt before unzipping his jeans, letting them fall to the floor. He kicked them off leaving him in just his boxer briefs, hard cock straining at the thin material and leaving a clear outline that made Stiles’ mouth water. He whimpered and fumbled with his own shirt and jeans, letting Derek pull those off too and throw them to the side. Derek squeezed him once before grabbing his arm and pulling them over to the couch, sitting on the edge and pushing Stiles down in front of him. Stiles stared at Derek’s crotch for a moment, running his hands up the insides of Derek’s thighs.

“I haven’t, uh, before so give me some cues, alright,” Stiles said. He glanced up to see Derek nodding, and pulled down Derek’s briefs. His cock was slightly larger than Stiles’ and about the same thickness. It was bright red at the tip and already oozing precum, which gave Stiles a boost of confidence. He took the head into his mouth and began to suck, channeling all the porn he’d been watching recently. Derek moaned and Stiles felt a hand run through his hair, pushing him further down Derek’s length. Stiles complied, curling his tongue down the side of Derek’s cock and hollowing his cheeks. He worked the base with his hand, dropping the other the press into Derek’s thigh, his fingernails leaving little half-moons in the skin. Derek whimpered and tugged softly on Stiles’ hair, pulling him back up for air. Judging by Derek’s absolutely wrecked face he hadn’t done too bad of a job. Stiles smirked, which made Derek’s eyes darken. All of a sudden he was lying on his back on the couch with Derek hovering over him, sucking marks onto his collarbone. Stiles moaned loudly when their cocks brushed together. Derek thrusted down, pushing his cock between Stiles’ thighs and back behind his balls. Stiles wasn’t proud of the desperate sound he made, tilting his hips up and digging his nails into Derek’s back.

“See anything you like?” Derek teased, parroting Stiles’ line from the party back to him.

“Maybe,” Stiles grinned, biting down on Derek’s neck making him moan. “But I’d like it a bit more if you could put your fingers to use.” Derek licked over a mark he had made on Stiles’ collarbone and pulled back, ignoring Stiles’ whine of disapproval. He scooted over to the coffee table on his knees, opening up a small side drawer and pulling a bottle of lube and a condom from the back. He moved back over to Stiles, sitting on the couch and pulling him into his lap. Stiles popped the cap on the lube and drizzled some down Derek’s fingers, which quickly found their way to Stiles’ hole. He slapped Derek on the shoulder after a few moments of him just running his fingers over where Stiles wanted them, trying to hurry him up. Derek bit his shoulder in response, and Stiles shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did. Finally he pressed two fingers into Stiles, rocking them back and forth slowly as they moved farther in. Stiles moaned again and pushed back onto them, shoving them all the way in.

“I can take three,” he gasped into Derek’s neck, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks and jerking them slowly. Derek complied, pressing a third finger in and brushing against Stiles’ prostate.

“You look so pretty when you arch up like that,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ chest, sucking a nipple into his mouth. Stiles squeezed a hand around the base of their cocks, not wanting to cum. Derek scissored his fingers and pressed a fourth in, stretching Stiles open wide. He pulled his fingers out all too quickly and Stiles whimpered at the sudden emptiness.

“You don’t need that,” he nodded towards the condom Derek was ripping open.

“I’m not getting cum all over my couch,” Derek replied, rolling it down his length. Stiles repositioned himself so that the head of Derek’s dick was pushing against his hole, and grabbed it by the base as he slowly sunk down. Derek made little aborted thrusts from under Stiles, trying to keep himself under control until Stiles was fully seated. After a moment Stiles began to move, rocking back down on Derek’s cock and twisting his hips slightly to draw moans from the other man. Derek had one hand dug into Stiles’ ass, the other pulling him in by his neck to kiss Derek deeply and messily, their breaths being pushed out with every downward thrust. Derek knocked Stiles’ hand away from where he had been jerking his cock in time with the thrusts and replaced it with his own.

“I’m close,” he said, biting down on his lip as Stiles changed the angle slightly. Stiles nodded and sped up his movements, pushing up and slamming down onto Derek’s dick. Derek started jerking Stiles faster, making white spots pop up on his vision and they came together, Stiles grinding down onto Derek’s cock and throwing his head back, Derek tugging on Stiles’ cock with his face buried in Stiles’ neck. They stayed like that for a while, panting onto each other’s skin. Stiles glanced down to see red marks popping up all over his collarbone and leaned forward to bite Derek’s in retaliation, frowning as the mark faded almost instantly.

“It’s not fair that you can mark me up but I can’t mark you,” Stiles pouted, running his finger over the spot where the mark disappeared. Derek didn’t reply, just maneuvered them so they were lying on the couch facing each other. Stiles made a face at the sensation of Derek slipping out of him, which made Derek chuckle.

“So, was that what you’d hoped for?” Derek asked. His eyes kept darting over Stiles’ face, resting on his parted lips, his flushed cheeks, and his rumpled hair.

“It was better,” Stiles grinned. He brushed a stray eyelash from Derek’s cheek and moved to sit up. “Should I go? I don’t really know what to do from this point.”

“Do you want to go?” Derek asked, his eyes locked on Stiles’. Stiles paused for a moment, glancing down at Derek splayed out on the couch.

“Not really,” he replied. “We could make pizza?”

“That sounds good,” Derek smiled at him. “You can, uh, stay over if you want.” He looked so small in that moment, tensing up slightly as if he expected Stiles to laugh in his face.

“Well, I already know you have clothes that fit me so, really, it would be a waste not to,” Stiles joked. He tapped Derek’s jaw with his finger and pulled him into a kiss, lips soft and almost chaste against his own. Derek pushed him back and smiled wide, running one of his hands down Stiles’ arm. Stiles moved to pull his jeans back on but stopped and called out to Derek. “Back where it all began, hey,” he joked as he bent over to pick them up. Derek was on him in a second pulling him into another kiss and smirking against his mouth.

“As long as you do that naked you can bend over anytime you want,” he joked, slapping Stiles’ ass lightly. After Stiles had pulled on pants and stashed the lube back in the drawer he made his way over to where Derek was pottering around in the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the fridge. He stood close to Derek, not sure how much touching they should be doing since he didn’t even know what they were as of that moment. Derek cleared that up for him almost immediately, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him close. And later when Stiles was leaning up against Derek’s chest as they watched Netflix on the couch, he knew he wouldn’t even have to ask. He knew what they were, and his plan couldn’t have worked better.


End file.
